Tessa called after Bradly, "Make sure you don't kn-" she heard a thud of books falling over, "knock over the books.." she simple said giving a small smile. Picking herself up from the floor from a little stack of books, She went off to the otherside of the library, lifting a book up she opened up the pages and smiled to herself, "here it was written by Librarian Sparkhawk, and the summer when two little trouble makers Tessa and Jessie arrived at Redwall…" she muttered and scanned a few pages, Sparkhawk didn't miss a thing, "Poor cook is having a hard time, Tessa and Jessie are at it again, this time the cook was targeted, the two misfits hid in the crates next to the door and when poor Friar Tuck comes in had quite a scare, Abbot says he would recover soon…"
She kept on reading, grinning now, dang Tessa and Jessie were the worst of the worst growing up in Redwall. She put the book back on the shelf, noting where it is, she must show this to Jessie when she gets chance. She kept looking, a lot of these books she never even knew existed! Looking along the shelf and blowing off dust as she went, making her sneeze quite a few times. "Whoa!" she yelped as she tripped over the corner of a rug and crashed into a stack of books and they all came tumbling down on her, "owie…" she muttered as she blinked rapidly in the dust. The now fire colored squirrle was a dull orange color.
THUNK! Jessie heard the books tumble over and went over to Tessa, halting and then collapsed to the floor laughing. "Its Not..ACHOOO! Funny!" Tessa snapped between sneezes seeing her sister laughing," Ge- ACHOO!! Over here..noACHOO!" Jessie gasped catching her breath, "Alright..alright..hehehe Im coming." She made her way over to Tessa and pulled her out of the pile of books, "Tha-tha Thanks." Tessa managed, holding in a sneeze. "Help me put these away." she said, bending down and picking up the books.
Jessie crouched down and picked up a book when one caught her eye picking it up she looked at it, "Recorder Rosabel.." she said outloud, "Aha! Found one!" she said triumphantly. "Maybe there could be more." Tessa said excitedly and started shifting through the books, "Here is one before Rosabel, that could help also." she muttered, but besides the two, they couldn't find any others, no history, no bios, no nothing. Bringing back the two books they found, they put it on the huge oak desk near the fire place.
Fabiana looked at the shelves, "History…records..Rosabel.." she muttered to herself, "Whats this one?" she said opening a book, "The Tales of Martin the Warrior." Fabiana opened her eyes, "This the the Martin they talk about." she said as she read a few pages, "Martin the Warrior was the co-founder of Redwall with Abbess Germaine, after escaping Marshank and the death of his beloved Laterose.." she scanned the pages, _"Escaping with Gnoff the mousetheif…giving up the sword for a life of peace..."_near the end she read, "his spirit often guides Redwalls questors, warriors and madiens." "So thats martin!" she exclaimed, maybe Martin would help them more on the quest on this stone, she thought looking at it around her neck. Sadly the book didn't say anything about a blue stone of power. Fabiana kept looking, tho her hopes slowly diminished on finding anything. "Maybe their was nothing on the stone.." Fabiana eyes scanned, "Tyranny of Clans" she read, picking it up she look through it, "Juska Clan…" "YES!" she said triumphantly, "Capitan I found something on the clan." she said bringing the book over to Jessie and Tessa, halting she looked at Tessa, "What happened to you?" she said, Dusty Tessa looked at her, "Nothing." she snapped. "Oh well I found a book that might help." she said placing it next to the other two.
"Tyranny of Clans Chapter III: Of the Juska and the Moon-Under-Horn, by Isabella Leapscut Thistlefurrow, Abbey Recorder
The twenty-eighth day of the Season of Broad Snowflakes
A weasel has come to our Abbey this wintery day, seeking sanctuary from the cold wilderness. Whilst most of her bruises will heal soon, Sister Merriam has expressed her deep concerns regarding the lacerations on the weasel's back. We suspect she is an escaped slave, though from what cruel master we do not know. She answers to the name 'Shiraya', though Kinsey tells us it sounds like a Juska corruption of the title 'Soothsayer', from her time living in northern Mossflower. Shiraya, or the Soothsayer has tried hiding her Juska tattoos under rags, and even gnawing at her skin.The old weasel's a tough one, especially around the more boisterous otters. She waves her walking stick and bellows in some incomprehensible vermin chatter if anybeast she doesn't trust comes close. She gets on better with Sister Merriam, and we've noticed she has a soft spot for the dibbuns. Merriam and I have tried talking to her about where she comes from, but we get little out of her. I can see she understands our words, but rarely adds her own voice to the conversation.
The forty-second day of the Season of Broad Snowflakes
Shiraya has agreed to tell us a story of her home, and many of us are gathered in Cavern Hole to listen. Brother Fortnum has expressed his doubts as to whether the dibbuns should be allowed to listen, but it has proven impossible to keep them out of this. I shall be dutifully taking down the weasel's words to commit the story to paper and ink. I should think this is one of the very few records in Redwall's library that will be transcribed from the story of a vermin visitor.It began in the deep mine under the Horn, the great mountain in the East. Weasels don't like the Horn, it is not a good place for us. There is always an eagle that makes himself lord of the Horn, and hunts our kind. We lived in the shadow of the mountain, hunted and fished under the green canopies of the forests. Shiraya was very young when outsiders came. They were like us, but they grew tall, and wore clothes of iron. Weasels had to work in the mines, they said. We had to go into the Horn and bring out the rocks, and they would let us eat. We already had food, but the outsiders slew those that refused. So passed Shiraya's father into the afterlife.
_Weasels feel safe in tunnels and holes, but hated coming out amongst the piles of rocks and earth, where the eagle lord could swoop in and kill outsider or weasel alike. Shiraya slept in the deep mines, where it was quiet and still. The spirits of the Horn grew angry sometimes, when the outsiders stole away their precious stones. Tunnels collapsed here and there, and there were noises in the dark places like thunder. Some beasts went missing for days, and those that eventually emerged were not the same as before. The Horn was speaking to the weasels, warning us to stay away, but our masters would not listen. They had cruel stinging rope that cut our backs, and sharp blades to stop us fleeing.
Shiraya was there the day they picked and dug their way to the mountain's heart. Nirpi's pick struck a stone, but it was the pick that was scratched. The stone had smooth, flat edges that flickered with the torches like the river flickers under the light of the moon. As Nirpi bore it to the surface, Shiraya followed and saw it by daylight. It was a deeper blue than she had ever seen, and no part of it was roundly hewn like a river pebble. Some thought it was a fallen star, others thought it looked like a piece of the moon. Weasels began to call it the Moon-Under-Horn. The outsiders took the piece of the moon and attacked it with their tools, which broke easily against it. They polished it even brighter and fashioned it into a pendant on a silver chain. They rejected the weasel name for it, and called it the Luck-Eye, though no good luck it ever brought them.
When Nirpi was killed in a tunnel collapse the very next day, us weasels were convinced it was a curse brought on by stealing the blue stone from the mountain. The outsiders grew more restless, and squabbled over the precious stones being brought out of the mine, for we could not bring them anything so beautiful or precious as the Moon-Under-Horn. Their leader wore it proudly around his neck, but one night Shiraya heard the arguing between them growing worse and worse, until they were fighting each other. The one who had worn the beautiful blue stone was killed, and the beasts who had tried to take it slew each other, every last one. With their numbers so depleted, the remaining outsiders fled the mountain without a single precious stone to their names. We thought we were free.
Our tribe took the Moon-Under-Horn and Chief Torka Dur proclaimed it had saved us from tyranny. At first the chief kept it hidden away, and Shiraya saw it not for many seasons. She became a fisherbeast for the tribe, and the memories of the Horn faded for a while. Yet she could not escape the curse of the Moon-Under-Horn, which the tribe had wrongly stolen from the depths of the mountain. War came upon us weasels, other tribes sought our lands. When we gained the upper paw, our chief wore the stone as he accepted the other tribe's surrender. Our tribe grew bigger, and more powerful. The chief began to wear the stone every day. Shiraya had been been a miner, and then a fisherbeast. Now she was a warrior, in the chief's never-ending conquest of the little river tribes of weasels, ferrets, rats and others. As Torka was master over all of us, the Moon-Under-Horn was the master of him. He said sometimes it spoke to him, whispered secrets in his mind and filled his dreams with the mountain, and the dark passages we dug under it.
We were a big tribe now, the Juskadur. Too big for the woodlander tribes, who feared us, much to Chief Torka's delight. They made a blood-pact between otters and squirrels and shrews, and waged a terrible war upon us. There was a great battle, the last battle of my tribe. We were driven back up into the mountains, amidst the narrow rocky passes of the Horn once more. No woodlander slew our Chief though. Shiraya did that herself, spearing him through his wicked heart. The stone's curse punished them all, and the Jusakadur were scattered to the wind. Shiraya fled her tribe and the woodland army, hiding in the abandoned mine where nobeast had the wits to find her. She never saw the Moon-Under-Horn again.Shiraya has fallen asleep, and the fire has burned low to mere embers. I have omitted the weasel's long pauses and occasional ramblings in her own speech, which defy translation. Some beasts here became decidedly uncomfortable when the weasel explained, at some length, how she came to slay the mad chief of her tribe. However, reading over the story, one cannot help but understand why such a thing had to be done. I still have questions for the weasel if I can get her to speak of this tale again. The unknown fate of the Moon-Under-Horn is perhaps the most intriguing mystery of the story.The way Shiraya related this tale, it seems all this happened long ago, beyond the living memory of most beasts. Of precious stones I know nothing, being more at home with gardening myself. I hope we shall see some mole visitors to the Abbey in the coming days. Being creatures of the earth themselves, perhaps word of such a thing as the 'Moon-Under-Horn' has reached their ears before. Most beasts here in the Abbey shall dwell little upon such a fanciful tale. After all, it happened long ago and far away, if it ever happened at all._
- Isabella Leapscut Thistlefurrow, Abbey Recorder"